


Three

by Maisie_top_trash



Series: Flower King And His Sunshine Boy [3]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anxiety, Autism, Bulimia, Eating Disorder, Self Harm, autistic!josh, non verbal autism, non verbal communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-15 14:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17530883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maisie_top_trash/pseuds/Maisie_top_trash
Summary: Regression and Relapse.The Josephs return to LA for the summer vacation, but Tyler doesn't cope well with being in the environment that had first cultured his eating disorder. Meanwhile Josh is doing his best to cope with the inevitable change in routine that the break and the absence trigger, but he can't always manage to clear his cup as quickly as it fills, and things come spilling over.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Realised I hadn't done a Flower King update in over a year :O sorry!
> 
> TW for self harm and disordered eating.

Josh liked Susie. His old therapist, Mrs Smith, was mean and scary and nasty to him, and used to make him cry every single session and every single time her techniques were used at home. All she wanted to do was make Josh like everybody else, whereas Susie just helped Josh to be a better Josh. 

Mrs Smith was the worst and the things she did to him were somehow even meaner than her. The absolute worst thing about therapy with Mrs Smith, the thing that still made Josh flinch when he heard the words to this day, was 'quiet hands'. Quiet hands was the thing she used to say to tell him to stop exploring his world with his fingertips, the thing she used to say to get him to hold his hands in his lap completely still, the thing she used to say to torture him. 

The mean old lady used to pin his hands down by his side harshly and repeat quiet hands over and over again whilst he struggled and complained. The more he complained, the more harshly she pinned him. Eventually he figured out that the only way to stop her grabbing and hurting his hands was to do as she demanded and stop stimming whenever she said the words. 

The problem with that was that Josh's fingers were his voice. He couldn't speak, he couldn't talk, he could only communicate through flaps of his hands. If he wanted to tell his Mom that he liked how something felt then first he had to run his fingers over it and then he would become so overwhelmed with joy that his fingers would start flying about in a way that she could interpret and understand. Whereas if he wanted to tell his Mom that he was uncomfortable and unhappy then the way his fingers would move through the air was in a manner to shake away all the anxiety and soothe himself simultaneously, and Mom could recognise that. 

He couldn't communicate with words but he could communicate with stims. Everything he could ever want to say could be conveyed with hand movements that flowed so naturally from him and made him so happy. His hands danced above his ears when he was decision making and they wrapped around his face and drummed on the back of his head when he was excited and then they fanned in front of his ribs when he was nervous. When he had his hands, he didn't feel like he was isolated by not having a voice, because they were his voice, and Mrs Smith took that away from him. 

"You're thinking a lot today, aren't ya?" Susie smiled and Josh wasn't sure whether he was thinking any more than usual, and twisted in his seat to look over at his Mom against the wall for advice, hands flapping to convey his confusion.   
"Don't look at me Josh, look at Susie darling, tell her not me."   
"Would you like to try signing it for me Josh?" She suggested but Josh didn't know what to sign, so ignored her and continued to flap, this time bouncing off his chair a little because he had extra tension that wasn't being released by his hands. 

"Flap it all out, stim to your heart's content, then if you decide you want to keep working then we can keep working." The young therapist told him and he immediately started rocking in his chair too, not quite managing to syncopate his flaps and his bounces and his rocks but not caring because he was amusing himself and soothing himself and feeling better in himself already. 

"Ready?" She asked when he settled down a bit and pulled his necklace out from his shirt and chewed on the special rubber pendant, nodding slightly as he suckled. "Okay great, so I have a whole new page of symbols for your flip book that your Mom and I both think might help you to communicate with us even better. I know it's scary, having lots of new things, but you don't need to worry because we are going to help you learn all of them one at a time over our next few sessions together."

Susie had a page in front of her which was a bit like the pages Josh had at home, but different. He sometimes liked the pages, liked pointing at the pictures in the squares and Mom knowing straight away what he wanted, but sometimes he didn't like them. Today he did like them. 

"So, 16 new pictures, which one would you like to learn today?" Her voice was smiley as she asked Josh, and he looked for a moment then shied away, hiding behind his wrist then peeking another look at the silly shapes. They had words under them and he was sometimes really good at reading, but it had been a long session and he was tired. He wanted to go home. 

"Josh." Mom warned when he stood up and took a few steps towards the door.   
"You had enough Josh?" Susie asked and Josh stopped walking across the room and instead took a step over to where his mom was, and nestled into her side.   
"Tired?" She guessed whilst wrapping an arm around him then tucking her chin on top of his head. He liked hugs with her. 

"You've done really well today Josh, 25 minutes, gotta be pretty close to a personal best." Susie announced as she packed away all the stuff they'd used during the session. "I think you've earned yourself a sucker if you'd like one."

The prospect of a sucker was exciting and a squeal escaped his lips, accompanied by two flapping hands that wrapped themselves around Josh's face. He felt Mom let go so he could happily run over to where Susie was opening the tin full of them, then he dug his hand in deep. Momentarily he had forgotten about how overwhelming the sensations on his fingers would be and he panicked, but then caught sight of an orange one and went back to grinning. He ripped the packet off and let it float to the ground, then held the orange jewel up to the light and giggled. 

He wouldn't eat it, he wouldn't lick it, but the way the light caught inside the translucent candy was far more pleasurable than any taste could ever give him. Tastes were intense, always far far too intense, but sometimes sight could be just the right mix of normal and exciting to make him happy without making him scared. He barely noticed as his mom helped him put his jacket on, just watched the orange glint of light. 

 

 

The car was parked right on the other side of the parking lot outside the building where the therapist's office was, and his mom held his hand as soon as they walked through the external door. His sucker was gripped tightly by his other hand for safe keeping. 

"Are you okay J? You were really quiet in that session, I only heard you humming three times, is everything alright?" She asked as they made their way over to the car. "Was it Susie? Did she say something that you didn't like?" 

Josh shrugged. He'd learnt that gesture a long time ago, he couldn't remember how long ago, but it was when his hair was blue not yellow. Shrug, it meant, I dunno, it meant, I don't mind, it meant, I guess. Today it meant, I dunno how to explain. 

"Alright poppet." She swung their hands and it made Josh giggle. It was silly. "You did really well in there though baby, especially if you weren't feeling 100%, great job, well done."

Mom's car was blue. It wasn't the same colour blue as the hair Josh had a long time ago and it wasn't the same colour blue as the blue jumper Josh had, but it was still called blue. And Josh didn't like it. It wasn't the colour, he liked the colour, it was the car he hated. Going in the car was scary and sometimes when Mom said they needed to go, he would scream and cry and kick and shout and throw himself on the ground because he hated it so much. Some days it was okay though. The days when Dad and Jordan and Ashley and Abbie weren't there and they didn't go on the busy busy highway were okay. Days when they did, Josh would scream and cry. It was too busy busy, too scary. 

The drive from the house to therapy and from therapy to the house was okay. Mom and Josh practiced it a lot. Practice made it less scary and sometimes his mom would even give him rewards for getting in the car, those were good days, and it made him less afraid when he saw a therapy appointment on his schedule. 

He had a lot of therapy appointments recently, lots and lots. Before Tyler started living super close, he had one every month. Now he had 3 every week! Mom said it was because Tyler made him super super brave and Mom also said that he engaged more in therapy and seemed more eager since meeting Tyler. He didn't know what that meant, but Mom explained it meant Josh tried more to stay calm and be able to communicate since meeting Tyler. Mom was right. 

"Watch your head sweetheart." She said as she opened the passenger seat door for him, and he remembered to crouch a little as he climbed in, shuffling to get comfy. Once he stopped wiggling, Mom pulled the safety belt nice and long then reached across and plugged it in. She knew the click sound always made Josh jump, so she waited a moment for him to calm down before slowly letting go of the strap and allowing it to touch his chest. 

The usual strap part was too hard and too gross against his body, so Mom had bought a soft cover that wrapped around to make it feel nicer for him. Also stitched into the cover's fabric was Josh's name, followed by 'non verbal autism'. Mom explained it was in case there was an accident and a paramedic was trying to assess him, but that idea made him cry, so he didn't ever think about that anymore. 

"I've got some exciting news for you young man." Mom turned the engine on but didn't start moving the car, giving him time to acclimatise to the noise before piling on more sensory information. "I had a call from Kelly last night, Kelly Joseph, Tyler's Momma,"

His excited squeal at the sound of his best friend's name made her smile and his hands dance. 

"And she called to say that they've decided to come home from their trip early-" again his squeals interrupted her, and that time she reached across and stopped a happy hand from repeatedly hitting his face, and instead held it kindly. "So they flew back from LA this morning and they'll be back home round about now-"  
"Eeeeeeeee,"  
"Tyler was feeling a bit sad about being back in LA, so she brought him home again and there's no Jay or Maddy or Zack or Chris, they're still there, but she's hoping that maybe you'd be really helpful and go and have a play with him when we get home? See if you can make Ty happy again?"

 

 

"What the fuck Mom? Just unlock the door! I need to pee!" Tyler protested angrily, arms folded, and frown deeply embedded in his forehead.   
"I'm cooking your dinner Tyler! Give me 5 min-"  
"But I need to pee now!"  
"You're being ridiculous young man." She sighed as she took the Bolognese off the heat and stirred the pasta.   
"I'm being ridiculous?!?!" He exclaimed in shock.   
"Yes. Sit down and be patient."

"This is fucking dumb. Locking the toilets doesn't stop me purging, hell, I'll do it anywhere-"  
"Have you?" Mom stopped to look at him, familiar fear in her eyes. "Have you thrown up somewhere today Tyler?"   
"What does that matter?"  
"Of course it matters. Tell me."  
"I need to pee Mom."  
"Tyler where did you purge? Into your flower pot like you used to back in LA?"  
"No, I haven't, I didn't, I won't, I just, I need the toilet! Please Mom!"  
"You know what? Fine. Your pasta is going to be undercooked but whatever, guess you know best." She sighed and turned the gas off, then lead the way out of the kitchen and across the hall to the bathroom. A ring of keys appeared from her back pocket and she took a moment to select a thin silver one, then unlocked the door and pushed it open for Tyler. 

Tyler didn't bother to say thank you, he didn't feel he needed to, and he went straight over to the loo and lifted the seat up then unbuttoned his pants and finally relieved himself. He knew his mom was stood outside the door, listening out for retching sounds, but she'd done it for months back when he was really sick and the stages of being too shy to go were long gone. 

He hated that she was back on his case, always checking up on him, constantly hovering around and invading his alone time. It was her fault he was relapsing anyway. If she never suggested they go back to LA for the summer, if she had listened to him when he voiced his anxiety, if she stopped to think and connected the dots that being back where it all started was going to be impossibly hard then maybe he wouldn't have socks filled with puke hidden in his room. The plant pot was too obvious. She knew about the plant pot. 

"Tyler? What are you doing?" She called out after a few seconds of silence.   
"I'm about to wash my fucking hands Mother - would you like to come in here and do it for me?!"   
"Stop cussing Tyler, I'm only trying to protect you."  
"And you've done a great fucking job." Tyler spat back sarcastically as he rinsed his hands under the running tap then pumped soap into his palms and rubbed it into a lather. The grazed skin on his knuckle stung, but he ignored it and washed it away. He didn't bother to dry his hands on the towel, just walked straight back out again, semi-intentionally bumping into his mom in the process. 

"Tyler."  
"What?!"  
"Let me see." Mom grabbed his wet hand, and he attempted to yank it away but she held on tight and sighed. "You've done it today, haven't you? Purged."  
"No."  
"What's that then?" She pointed to the red patch at the base of his middle finger.   
"It's old."  
"Don't lie to me."  
"It's from the incident in LA, it's not that new."  
"It's inflamed."  
"Because of the suds, please Mom, just drop it?" He started walking towards the stairs, but she didn't let go. 

"Stay down here please Tyler."  
"Eugh, really? You're really gonna start that whole constant supervision shit again?"  
"No, it's dinner time, you like Spag Bol, I made you Spag Bol, go and eat it please."  
"I'm not hungry."  
"You have an eating disorder and you're currently losing weight, so right now hunger doesn't really get a say in whether you eat or not. Kitchen. Now."  
"I hate you." Tyler snapped sourly as he was shepherded back to the kitchen, sitting down at the table with a sigh whilst Mom plated up the meal that he would only keep in his stomach for a matter of minutes. 

It wasn't his fault. He was doing fine. He had been doing fine. All it took was 8 days in LA to relapse, and 26 days to be caught in the act by his brother who had snaked him out to his Mom who shipped home. He lied and told his mom that he'd only done it once, opposed to a dozen times a day, which was the truth. But it wasn't his fault, it was LA's fault. 

"Do you want Parmesan?" Mom put a far too full bowl in front of him.   
"No."  
"Orange juice?"  
“Water.”  
“Milk?”  
“Water.”  
“Even just a little bit of squash? Only a couple of calories?”  
"Water." His voice was deeper than usual, but Mom said nothing as she took out a cup and filled it to the top, then put it down in front of him alongside a fork and spoon. She sat opposite and leant against the surface with crossed arms, watching his every move. 

"Take a picture, it will last-" he was about to growl, but she cut him off.   
"I think we need to go back to your old eating disorder team."  
"In LA? Are you actually fucking stupid or something?? I've been fine all year, the moment I'm back there I feel like shit, and you expect me to go there yet again??!"  
"They helped you last time though Tyler, took you from rock bottom and set you on the right course."  
"I don't need fucking hospitalisation Mom, it was one stupid mistake, one!" He lied. 

"It's not only the little hiccup though love, it's your mood too, it's completely plummeted. You're swearing, you're rude, you're disrespectful, and I'm worried. This isn't like you Ty."  
"I'm fine." Tyler sighed, staring down at his spaghetti and trying to work out whether it counted as a binge or not. He decided probably not, but he still didn't want to eat it. 

"I spoke to Laura," that caught his attention. "Josh had therapy earlier and then she had to feed him, but he should be finished by now so you can go see him if you'd like."  
"Now?"  
"After you've eaten."  
"I don't want to eat though."  
"Half,"  
"I don't want to."  
"Half or you can't see Josh."  
"You can't stop me."  
"Yes I can young man, so if I were you I'd start eating."  
"You don't help people with eating disorders by threatening them."   
"How do I help you then Ty? Considering you don't want to go back to hospital or back to your ED team or back on a meal plan or back on supervision? And you kick up a fuss when I lock the toilets and when I take control of your medication and try to talk to you. How should I work around the fact you swear at me and tell me you hate me when I try and help? What options are left for us when you bear in mind that I can see you've lost a significant amount of weight and I'm completely aware of the fact that the incident Zack walked in on was not isolated and you've been lying to me about how many times you have purged and are currently purging. What would you recommend I do babe?"

He knew she wasn't dumb. Deep down, he knew that she was aware that he was sicker than he tried to say. And yet his instincts were still to lie. 

"It was just one time, and I only did it because I thought I ate bad chicken and I didn't wanna get sick."  
"Sweetheart, we already established that you didn't eat any chicken - cooked or not. Now, you don't have to open up to me today if you're not ready, you don't have to spill all your secrets, but I just need to know. Are you safe?"  
"I'm fine Mother."  
"Are you safe?"  
"Yes." He sighed, slouching in the chair and willing himself not to cry in front of her. 

Keep up the facade and eventually she'd stop trying. 

"Dad wants to know whether you'd like him and your siblings to come home too, or whether you'd prefer they stay in LA for the rest of summer, or at least for a while, whilst we work on this together."  
"Don't care."  
"Try again."  
"Do not care."  
"Tyler, babe, work with me and this is gonna be so much easier. Would you like their support at home, or would space be easier?"  
"Space." Tyler eventually mumbled.   
"Okay love, well done. And since Dad's gonna be away, you can sleep in our bed with me if you'd like?"

Tyler wanted to scoff, to act like he didn't care, to keep up the attitude until she crumbled, but he crumbled first. He'd always been the weakest. It wasn't even a sudden realisation of how truly shitty he felt, he'd known for a while, it was instead a breach of his capacity. The spaghetti was scaring him and he wanted his mom. 

"Oh darling," she sighed and stood up from where she was sat, instead walking round to wrap her arms around him as he cried. His head collapsed against her chest and he didn't fight her embrace, just let her hold him.

"It's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay," her voice sounded strange with her lips pressed to his crown, but he didn't care. It wasn't the words that mattered, only the supportive nature. "S'all okay Ty,"

"I hate this, I hate this so much,"  
"I know poppet, I know, I do too," Mom hummed. "But you've beaten it before and you can beat it again. You're nowhere near as bad as last time, everyone's more knowledgeable as to how to help you out, you've got your meds, you've got Josh, yeah? This time isn't going to be as hard, I promise you Tyler."  
"I can't, I don't have the strength," Tyler cried.   
"You've had a really long month back in LA, it's draining, I do understand - but Ty, remember where we get energy from? What needs to happen in order for us to feel strong and energised?"  
"Eat."  
"That's right." She squeezed him as he stared at the spaghetti through tear blurred eyes. 

"I don't want to binge." He squeaked a moment later, accompanied by another sob.   
"There's none of your old bingeing items in the house, I threw most things out before we went to LA, and we can go through the remaining stuff in the cupboards and throw out anything that tempts you, and I can take your wallet off you if you think that'll stop you going down to the store."  
"But the pasta!"  
"Pasta? The spaghetti?"  
"Yes!"  
"Tyler baby, that's less than one serving, okay? I weighed it before I cooked it and it's less than one serving and I'm only asking you to have half. That's not a binge."

"I'm so scared." Tyler admitted tearfully.   
"It's okay to be scared, it's not okay to let that fear dictate you Tyler. I know I don't know the details of the severity of the situation, but I can guess that you're purging more than a couple of times every day." She guessed accurately but he didn't confirm, not wanting to move his head from her warm chest. "And that is horrifying to contemplate for me as a mother, but I am aware that there's still a lot further you can fall. It's a downward spiral and you need to put a stop to it now before this gets worse and worse and harder and harder. You're so loved poppet, so loved. All your siblings have been so worried, my phone is filled with messages to pass on about how much they miss you already, and your father would do anything to help you feel better, as would I. You've got amazing school buddies who I'm sure would support you, and you've got Josh who I can already tell is going to be so important as a motivation and a distraction. You've got a support network Tyler, you're not doing this alone. We're here."

"What, wh-what, um, what if I'm too sick for Josh?"  
"Too sick for him?" She didn't seem to understand the anxiety that suddenly paralysed him.  
"Too sick to fake it and play."  
"Sweetheart, Josh loves playing, but he loves you more. If you're not feeling up to fun and games, that's okay, he'll enjoy just spending time with you."   
"We haven't seen each other for a month, he's going to be overexcited, he, he won't accept me not getting excited too." Tyler sniffed as she stroked his back soothingly. 

"I thought that seeing him would be a reward for you for making the right decision by choosing to come back to Ohio with me. I thought he might cheer you up, even for a brief moment. If I thought wrong then I'm sorry baby, and I'll call Laura up and explain that you don't think you can manage a play date today."   
"I do miss him Mom, I, I miss him like crazy,"   
"I know you do sweetheart."  
"I just, I, I,"  
"You're doing the right thing by thinking about what's best for you." She emphasised the last word. "It's okay to put yourself first Tyler, it's okay to say that you're not up to the task of looking after someone else right now, and I'm very proud of you for speaking up rather than just going along with it and collapsing under the strain."

"I love him,"  
"We all know that Ty, but it doesn't change the fact that he's severely autistic and needs a lot of help. It's not selfish to say that right now you need to focus all your energy on yourself, yeah? It's not selfish, it's the right thing to do."  
"Yeah," he sniffed.   
"And I'm not ruling with an iron fist, this is a two way conversation, if you change your mind tomorrow then we'll go see him tomorrow, and likewise if you don't feel ready until we've properly got on top of the bulimic thoughts then we won't go across for a while. I'm not going to make a blanket rule that you're not allowed to see him, all I'll say is that it's your choice and I trust you'll make the right one."  
"Thank you,"

"Now, how about we try again at having some spaghetti, then we go and get in our pyjamas and watch a movie in my bed to distract you for a lil while?"  
"That, that would be nice, thank you," Tyler said quietly and she kissed him on the forehead and rubbed his back soothingly. 

 

 

"Hands up Josh, up, that's it," Mom smiled as she pushed Josh's pyjama shirt over his head for him and rolled it over his tummy as he wriggled and giggled when it tickled. She laughed a little too then stroked his yellow hair back out of his face and smoothed it down again. 

"Can you do your pants by yourself today? Or too tired?" She asked and Josh hummed and twisted on one leg whilst deciding, then plopped his hands on top of his head so they were out of the way whilst mom untied the string on his sweatpants for him. Once she sat back down on his bed, Josh grabbed fistfuls of the navy fabric and pushed downwards so that the cold air hit his thighs. The feeling was funny and he sat down on the soft carpet and pulled the pants over his feet and threw them at the wall, then moved his legs against the soft fluffiness of the thick carpet and relished in the strange sensations. 

"Shorts mister." Mom held up the red pair that matched his red shirt and he remembered that they weren't finished yet, so shuffled over to her and snatched them out of her hands, then tried to put them on. "Upside down Josh, oopsie daisy, other way round, can you put the logo at the front like Momma did? Nope, other way, other way babe. Here, let me."

In the end she slid down onto the floor too and showed him how to turn them the proper way around, then threaded his feet through the leg holes and helped him shimmy them all the way up to his hips. Once they were on, Mom was going to stand up again but Josh let out a shrill scream and dove on her legs to stop her, then giggled. 

"Ah Josh, babe, you can't jump on Mom like that, you're gonna hurt me." She groaned and he just squealed and cuddled against her. "I'm serious J, you're getting really strong, you're 18 now sweetie, an adult, you can't keep jumping on me because one day I'm gonna break." 

Normally Josh didn't care when Momma used her low stern voice, but hearing that she was going to get hurt and that might mean she would go away was scary and sad and too much to comprehend. Scared he was in trouble, Josh whimpered and began to panic with his hands covering his ears. 

"Hey hey hey, it's okay poppet, you're okay," her voice softened but still he felt bad and began to cry. "Josh darling, there's no need to get upset, you're okay, shhh, you're okay,"

“Mommy?” His littlest sister Abbie came into his room and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “Mommy why’s Joshie crying?”  
“Quiet voices near Josh, remember?”  
“Why is he crying?” She whispered but he could still hear her, and curled tighter in on himself to try and block it out.

“He had a busy day princess, we went to see Susie so he’s super-duper tired out and needs to head to bed. Don’t worry,” Mom told her whilst stroking Josh’s back up and down,   
“Does he want a kissy?”  
“Not right now baby, why don’t you go and find Daddy and ask him to help you get ready for bed too? Then you and Joshie can both go to bed at the same time?”  
“Joshie? Want a kissy?” The little girl crouched down and stuck her face just centimetres from his, and in spite of his eyes being closed, he knew she was there and could feel her breathing against his skin and couldn’t help it as he began to scream and scream.

“Abbie, enough, step back from your brother and go and play in your bedroom. Abbie. Now.”  
“But Mommy! He sad!”  
“He’s scared, please, go to your room.” Mom used her stern voice again and Josh’s whimpering screams became more hysterical, but at long last the hot breath of the little girl left his cheeks.

“Josh she’s gone, deep breaths. You’re okay.” Mom’s voice was soft once more and her hand left his back, rightly knowing he couldn’t cope with all the stimulation. “Do you need me to go too? So you can get in your tent?”

Of course he couldn’t say yes, but being reminded of the existence of his sensory safe haven was a millisecond of relief in the bright and scary world that was swarming around him a million miles per second. He scrambled off the floor and dashed across his soft blue carpet, practically tripping over the little lip as he dove into his secure hiding place. 

The zip on the entrance was far too loud so Mom had sewn on a big fabric strip that had a magnet which Josh shakily stuck to the other side and closed off the flap to block out the outside world, finally able to collapse onto the soft foam padding on the floor and cry without all those eyes staring at him. He cuddled his knees close to his chest and heaved ragged breaths with wet cheeks, not knowing what to do with himself but desperate for his body not to throw a fit and hit and punch too much. He wanted to stay in control, he just didn’t know how.

Someone on the outside had turned the big bedroom light off and so Josh was left in the dark, which at first was a huge bonus because it meant he didn’t have to squint as hard to protect his eyes from the brightness, but he didn’t like the dark and could feel himself getting more and more panicked. 

Not fully able to govern his limbs properly, he was clumsy as he fumbled around and rummaged for the big round button that eventually he made contact with and pressed down with a loud click. The small tent was filled with the glowing light of the blue fibre optic strands that were half taped to the ceiling and half loose around him on the floor. Still fearing a total loss of control, Josh curled up into a little ball on his side and rocked with his fingers grasping at the lights trapped in the plastic and brushing them against his skin over and over.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey you,” Mom woke up groggily, twisting on her pillow with her hair a knotty mess to see Tyler and greeting him with a tired husky whisper. She was barely awake, whereas he’d been up for hours. Sleeping in her bed had been helpful in the evening, the constant supervision kept him safe and Mom’s periodic reassurance that she loved him and they were going to figure everything out was soothing enough to send him to sleep. The issue arose when Tyler woke in the early hours and had no stimulation to distract him from the thoughts that pelted him at full strength. Just as the sun started creeping through the translucent cream curtains, Tyler tiptoed out the bedroom and found comfort on his knees in the bathroom floor.

“Hey,”  
“You been up long?” She yawned whilst rubbing her eye with a balled fist.  
“Little while,” he nodded honestly.  
“How are you feeling today sweetheart?”  
“Shaky.” Tyler once again went with the honest approach in spite of the overwhelming urge to hide behind the safety of a lie.

Without even consciously thinking about it, he reached his right hand up to twiddle with a tuft of hair floating in front of his forehead, inadvertently showing off the fresh scrapes on his knuckles, and of course his mom noticed and scrambled to sit up with a distant look of horror in her eyes.

“Tyler,” His mom reached out slowly and took her hand in his, massaging either sides of the wounds with the pads of her thumbs. “Is this new? From today?”  
“Uh, yeh,”  
“Oh darling,” a deep sigh. “You should’ve woken me if you were feeling low,”  
“Sorry,”  
“No no, it’s in the past now, but next time know that it’s more than okay to wake me up if you’re having bad thoughts, in fact I actively want you to wake me, okay?”  
“Okay,” he nodded, wanting his hand back, feeling insecure about the state of his knuckles, but not wanting to snatch from her loving grip.

“Have you done some aftercare? Water? Eaten something with potassium?”  
“I drank some, uh, some water,”  
“Good job baby, well done, that’s really good.” The words were hollow. “I think today we should go into town, if you feel up to it, and stock up on some good aftercare items if we think we’re going to be dealing with purging for the foreseeable future. I don’t want you fainting and ending up in the hospital again. We should pick up some of those electrolyte sachets your dietician had you on last time, and we can get some coconut water, and lots of lovely fruits, some soy milk perhaps. Things that are going to replenish those electrolytes and help you feel better physically whilst we work on the mental health aspect.”  
“Gatorade?”  
“Well you know that Heidi didn’t like you drinking that stuff, with all those dyes and chemicals,”  
“Please Mom, it’s a safe thing for me, you, you know I don’t have many of those.”  
“I know poppet, and I’d much prefer Gatorade over nothing, so we will get you some, but I want you to try having one of the other options before we resort to that, okay? It’s a backup, not a first choice. How does that sound?”  
“I don’t know,” Tyler sighed deeply, suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the thought of how much work he was going to have to do to get back to a safe place again. He took his hand from her and hid behind it with tears welling in his eyes.

Recovery, the first time round, had been Hell. He’d been passing out several times a day whilst purging multiple times an hour, but had somehow managed to keep away from his family for the most part. Of course they knew he was losing weight and not eating for long stretches of time until suddenly he was eating far too much all at once, of course they were aware he wasn’t well, but they didn’t realise how poorly until they found him unconscious. He was blue lighted to the ER where the damage he was doing to himself was highlighted for the first time, the weak irregular heartbeat, the starts of serious kidney damage, the tooth decay, the inflammation of his pancreas, the acid burns lining his throat to name but a few. No part of his body was unaffected. He was malnourished and abused, at his own hand.

After they pumped him full of IV vitamins and minerals alongside a sedative to stop his repeated attempts to yank the lines out, he was transferred to an eating disorder clinic about 20 minutes from his house. Although, by the time his month long admission would draw to a close, his house would be sold and his family relocated to the other side of the country. His admission consisted of sobbing every single day, refusing to eat, daily weigh ins, being threatened with a feeding tube, and having a meal plan enforced that included liquid calorie supplements at 1.5 calories per millilitre. He gained weight, but it was only a partial restoration and if anything his mental state declined even further. Discharge was just the first step in a horrifically long recovery process.

On the plane to Columbus Ohio he had got up and purged in the aircraft’s onboard toilet 5 times during the 4 and a half hour journey time. He wept the entire drive from the airport to their new home, and he had barricaded himself into his new bedroom for over 24 hours before his Dad went to the local hardware store and bought a new ladder in order to be able to climb through his window. Tyler had nearly killed him whilst trying to push him away. He just did not want to deal with meal plans for a single day outside of the hospital, little did he know he’d still be on one two years later.

It was painful, a tiring dance of one step forward and two steps back, and for a short while Tyler genuinely thought his mother was going to have him sent away but for good that time. She was just so exhausted all the time, and Tyler hated how much he put his family through, but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t seem to see things through their eyes. He couldn’t see his weight as good enough. Every single day Tyler had fought and fought, battling his parents, battling his meals, battling his demons. Everything was a battle, and it wasn’t a fight he could walk away from, nor take a break, because every moment he wasn’t actively fighting his eating disorder, it was growing stronger and stealing more of his life away from him.

He didn’t have any friends in Columbus. He didn’t go to school for the rest of the year, he wasn’t well enough, and nobody from LA had called him since he had disappeared in the middle of the night. Deep down he knew why, he knew he had isolated himself as he became more obsessed with his weight, and in the process had pushed everyone away until he had no friends left at all. For months, the only people who were in his life were his family, and they were drained from having to force him to stay alive when his mind as trying so hard to end him – it was a lonely time, a horrible time, and now a time that Tyler feared had come back around.

Would he have to go through it all again? The arguing, the crying, the evenings of hopelessness where it all felt fucking pointless because there was no way to escape the grasps of an eating disorder and so his quality of life would never be worth all the heartache.

But no, no this time would be different, it had to be different. If he had a repeat in store for him, he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to go through with it. Maybe this time he would let the eating disorder win rather than lose himself in the process of trying to fight it off. He had to tell himself this time would be different. He had to tell himself that Josh was the key, that the non verbal kid with the yellow hair was going to make things different – because if not, he was in trouble.

“Come here,” Mom whispered, pulling him against her chest as he sobbed.

 

 

Aluminium foil was Josh’s favourite thing in the world. Well, after maybe Tyler, and Mom, and Ashley, and flowers, and wrappers, and his carpet, and his chewy necklace, and his other chewy necklace, and his t shirt with NASA on it, and potato waffles, and the colour yellow, and the sound of air freshener being sprayed, and ripping cardboard, and his fluffy socks. But after all of that, aluminium foil was Josh’s favourite thing in the world!

Mom had got out 3 whole rolls of it, plus lots of massive sheets of pink and white tissue paper, and together they’d been playing with it at the kitchen table all afternoon. She liked folding, she’d folded lots and lots of zig zag fans, and triangles, and other shapes and stuff. Josh like scrunching, and ripping, and squeezing. He wanted to chew too, but every time he put foil in his mouth, his mom would take it out again and threaten to put everything away. Though that didn’t stop him wanting to find out what it would feel like to crunch the metal between his teeth.

“Josh are you plotting again?” Mom managed to catch brief eye contact as he giggled guiltily. “Not for eating mister, this is for playing only. If you’re hungry then I’ll chop you some apple pieces.”

“Why don’t you try and squish this instead? See how it feels?” She tore off a big section from the roll then crinkled it to make it 3D before sandwiching it between two pieces of pink tissue paper. It was put in front of Josh, and for a few seconds he just stared at it and its funny shape, then all of a sudden he slammed his hand down and squashed one side flat, a funny feeling of soft paper and firm sharp stuff underneath. He lifted up the deformed creation with two hands and then started to squeeze it with his fingers, enjoying the unusual sensations on his skin as he twisted and pressed it into a ball of hard metal and fluffy paper.

“Can you see your face Josh?” Mom held up another flat square of foil in front of him, shiny side like a blurry mirror that made him laugh through his nose as he weaved his head side to side and the reflection copied him. Cautiously and carefully as he could, he reached out and touched the smooth sheet with his index finger, tracing a little trail with his tip, then he recoiled his finger and quickly poked a hole straight through the foil, making both his mom and himself laugh.

“Peekaboo, can you see me?” She put her eye up to the hole and Josh had a rush of excitement so intense that it made his happy hands dance up and wrap around his head. “You like that one hey?”

Mom was in a good mood today and so was Josh. His meltdown the previous evening had been long and tricky, and Josh had accidentally hurt himself quite a lot, but once he tired himself out and his brain stopped buzzing quite so much, Mom had come back and helped him calm down. 

He had one of her magic cuddles, and then she had him hug his weighted toy turtle, Timmy, whilst she cleaned up the blood from the scratches on his right temple and left forearm, then got him icepacks for the bruises all over him. They were still ouching in the morning, but Mom was taking extra special care of him and they’d done lots and lots of playing, with bubbles, and then painting, and splashing in the bath that he needed to wash off all the paint, and now tissue paper and foil. He was having fun.

“Would you like me to get a rolling pin? See how it feels and sounds to crush a big ball with it?” Mom offered whilst he twisted the sheet into a new shape, and his gleeful hums at the prospect made her stand up and fish through one of the miscellaneous draws in the kitchen until she found the wooden stick.

“Be careful with this, okay? If you hurt yourself then Mom will have to take it off you.” She warned as she handed it across, and straight away Josh felt powerful with the heavy weight in his hand, swinging it from side to side and liking the pulling tugging twist on his wrist as it dropped this way and that.

“Can you flatten this?” A rough sphere was put in front of him, but Josh didn’t really know what he was meant to do, so just kept swaying and twisting. “Here J, let Momma teach you. This is what I use to make pizza bases, and cookies, and lots of other things I need flat when I’m cooking. What you do is put your hands on the sides and hold really loosely, then push it down and roll it backwards and forwards. Do you wanna show me if that makes sense to you?”

Armed with his wooden baton, Josh shuffled closer to the table and first let his fingers press funny dents into the silver ball, liking the pressure on his fingertips, then remember what his Mom was hovering nearby to witness. She wanted him to do something, make a pizza, but Josh had a better idea and tapped the other end of the rolling pin against the table top. It made a gentle sound, so he did it again, and again, and again, and again, louder and harder making bigger and bigger bangs that made him jump and his heart race, but his face happy, smiling.

“You wanna make noise? Go ahead Josh, just don’t break my table you cheeky monkey.” Mom laughed and sat back down at the table, this time next to him rather than opposite him.

He didn’t like other people’s noise, not one bit, no, but his noise was different. Other people’s noise was out of control and didn’t stop when it was too much for him and he was getting upset and scared, other people’s noises just went on and on. But Josh’s noises were good, they were him finally being able to grab attention to make up for all the times he wanted to speak but the words never came, and having a way to communicate that wasn’t fiddling signing or confusing technology or just guessing. With his hitting stick, he could make all the noise he wanted, he could make big loud bangs and lots of quick little bangs, and lots of inbetweeny bangs, and all the other bangs he wanted.

“Try copying my pattern.” Mom encourage him softly, then tapped the table 3 times in a row. Josh tried doing the same, and a huge grin appeared on her face when it was nearly the same, so in celebration Josh smashed the rolling pin super super loudly, accidentally scared himself, took a second to decide whether he was going to burst into tears or not, then nervously giggled again.

“Too loud, yeah, but good job with the rhythm baby.” She told him, watching his unsure hands dance around.

Josh was about to try and squish the ball with his fingers again when suddenly the doorbell rang through the house, and he felt himself start to panic. Nobody was meant to be coming around, Mom promised that nobody was going to be there to ruin his day, she promised it was just going to be her and him and nobody else! Jordan was at summer camp and Ashley was at summer camp and Abbie was at Grandma’s house and Dad was at work, and nobody else was allowed in. No. Not when it was Josh’s time with Mom.

“Hey hey, you’re alright sweetie, don’t worry, Momma will send them away, you just be brave and sit here for a second, okay?” She stood up. “Actually, on second thoughts, you’re gonna eat that foil if I leave you, aren’t ya? That or smash something with your rolling pin. Come on, come answer the door with me.”

If he could scream no then he would, but he couldn’t, so instead he just screamed. His mom shot him a warning glare, still using Mrs Smith strategy to reinforce the idea that meltdowns wouldn’t get him what he wanted, but in retaliation Josh only screamed again.

“Josh, enough, no more.” Mom instructed as matter of fact. “If you scream again then we’ll have to put the foil away, you don’t want that, do you?”

He really didn’t, and whimpered and shied away as his hands fanned in front of him so quick they became a blur, almost as quick as his rapid breathing. Everything was changing much too quickly and he couldn’t cope.

“We can go upstairs and sit in your tent if you need some help to calm down, or we can grab your blockers and keep playing with the foil if you’re enjoying that, but I think first we should see who’s at the door – it might be Pat the mailman? He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

Pat was Josh’s friend, and he came to say hello every morning, and he let Josh feel his beard, and he gave Josh envelopes and packages as presents, and he smiled, and he was Josh’s friend. Excitement overriding fear, Josh sprinted into the hall and pulled the door open, but it wasn’t Pat.

 

 

Tyler heard the distinctive screams of Josh as he waited at the door with his mom by his side. He felt guilty for turning up unannounced and not calling ahead to make sure it was a good time and they wouldn’t disrupting Josh too much, and for a second he wanted to turn around and go back home, but his mom recognised his expression and whispered to him reassuringly.

“It was an exasperated scream, not a meltdown scream,”  
“Cos exasperated is so much better.”  
“It’s his ‘I want to say something but I can’t so I’m just going to make sure I’m being listened to’ scream, he’s not upset, he just wants to play.” Mom knew Josh inside and out.  
“We should leave him to play then,” he took a step backwards when all of a sudden the door opened and Josh appeared.

Tyler’s first instinct was to gasp, his friend looked awful. Big scabs covered parts of his face and arms where he’d scratched off the skin, and bruises patterned his flesh, ranging from dark blue to fading yellow, telling Tyler that the self injuring had been taking place for a long time, and he was going to ask if he should leave so not to upset him further when his thoughts were interrupted by Josh squealing ecstatically and throw himself at Tyler, knocking him back a pace.

At first it felt like a hug, but he could sense that Josh didn’t want to be held as he shook and tensed violently, his entire body tremoring with energy that he couldn’t channel or direct safely. His hands started to try and turn that excitement into a pleasant stim for him, flapping at double speed as Josh staggered around on unsteady feet, but quickly he started getting hysterical and his sounds turned to strangled shrieks as his palms started slapping against the sides of his head and his teeth started biting at any part of the meat on his arms that he could reach in the panicking chaos of unsynchronised movements. 

“It’s exciting, hey? Seeing your bestie? But Josh, Josh, listen to Momma, no biting, no hitting. No biting, no hitting please.” Laura came to be by his side, gently plying his two hands from his face and holding them tight as Josh continued screeching. “Oh I know bubba, I know, it’s very exciting, it’s a lot to think about and a lot of emotions all at once, and I know you wanna get them all out of your system, but we have to try not to hurt ourselves, yeah? Remember that? No biting, no hitting.”

As Josh cried and squirmed under Laura’s watchful gaze and the iron grip she had on his wrists, Tyler felt himself getting a little choked up, carried away in the moment, after spending so many weeks away from his best friend and forgetting how tricky things were for him, both in the good moments and the bad. He couldn’t be too down, he couldn’t be too happy, he just had to attempt to live in the mid ground to avoid a distressed reaction like so, but Josh hated the stationary grey, and therefore meltdowns and fits of overexcitement were daily occurrences. 

He just wanted Josh to be okay.

“Should we go inside sweetheart? Where the conditions are more familiar for you?” His mom suggested and, in spite of Josh not responding either positively or negatively, she started guiding him in. “Kelly, Ty, please join us?”

Again Tyler wanted to run away, back to his bedroom, somewhere safe where he could just cry because he too was feeling far too overwhelmed by the situation to make rational decisions, but luckily his mom was there with a smile and a supportive hand to also guide him into the home of their neighbours.

“What do you wanna do mister? What’s going to help Josh calm down?” Laura asked her crying son as he paced aggressively back and forth, shrieking and shaking as he tried to process everything that was going. “We still have all your stuff set up from occupational therapy on Monday, should I get you your peanut therapy ball so you can do some pressure points work? Or do you just need to go to your tent?”

Tyler watched nervously as Josh battled over the decision before finally signing the two letters O and T. Usually the thumb squeezed between his fingers was Josh signing T to mean Tyler, but he was proud of his friend for finding other ways to use his knowledge of sign language, when usually he refused to. 

Why he refused was difficult to understand, since Laura was fluent and Tyler had witnessed them have long silent conversations using only their hands to explain themselves, but Tyler empathised with Josh and knew using another language was complex and a lot to remember. After all he’d tried very hard to learn sign language too in an attempt to bond in the early days, but Josh’s use was as minimal as single letters and occasional words if his iPad wasn’t around to give him an easier option. Most often however he was relying on others being able to read his stims.

As Tyler thought about it, Josh might actually have been getting worse with his attempts at learning ‘normal’ means of communication. Yes he was going to therapy more often than he ever had done before in his entire life, but on a day to day basis, Josh barely seemed to use his new communication skills at all. Although Tyler scolded himself, he didn’t know anything about Josh on a day to basis anymore, it had been weeks since he’d seen him and so much could change so quickly. At least it had in his own case.

“Ta dah,” Laura walked back into the room carrying an aptly named peanut therapy ball. Similar to a normal exercise ball, except in the shape of a peanut, or perhaps a tic tac was a more accurate description. Either way it was good for rolling on, and he watched as Laura helped her son press his chest against the bright blue rubber and then rolled him forwards so his feet were lifted off the floor and a gleeful whine escaped from his lips. 

She rocked him back, then rolled him forwards, all the time focussing her attention on him and him alone, and as they did the exercise over and over again, Josh started to relax, is body became less rigid and shaky, and he seemed to melt into the ball, head sinking into the rubber when his neck no longer held it up.

“That’s better, hey? That’s so much better, well done sweetheart, that’s really good,” Laura praised him and his remarkable recovery in such a short period of time. “Do you want your blockers too?” she asked but he didn’t reply, so she stayed by his side, rocking and rolling the ball like a mother would sway her baby off to sleep, smoothly and calmly.

Tyler took the opportunity to look around the large open plan kitchen with its numerous locked drawers and cabinets to keep Josh’s wandering hands from finding something they shouldn’t. Some cupboards were left for him to raid, the Tupperware, the pots and pans, the baking trays, but all the knives and plates and cooking ingredients, all the things that could either hurt him or make a horrific mess, were kept under coded padlocks. The code was 111. Tyler knew every detail of the room, knew where everything was kept and where everything belonged, and a strange sense of home befell him as his eyes explored in an attempt to give Josh and his mom a little privacy in the situation. 

The big kitchen table, the table Josh never ate at, was covered in ripped up scraps of tissue paper and aluminium foil. It was clear that the mother and son had been enjoying the sensory elements of the materials before Tyler had turned up at their home and interrupted everything.

“It’s so good to see you both,” Laura snuck away from Josh for a moment, the boy entertaining himself by pushing his feet off the ground. “How was LA?”  
“Hot, very flippin hot.” Tyler’s mom smiled as the pair hugged, then came the turn for Tyler’s hug.

The last thing he wanted was for her slim arms to wrap around his frame and squeeze his chubby body, fearing not only that she’d judge him for his excess weight, but also that she’d bring awareness back to the part of himself he was trying so hard to detach from. If he spent enough time in his head then maybe he’d be able separate his mind from his body that he loathed so unconditionally.

“You look awful honey,” she embraced him before he even had time to protest, and it took every ounce of his being to resist squirming free, but nonetheless she noticed something was wrong when he couldn’t find the strength to hug back.  
“S’been a rough few weeks,” Mom sighed heavily.   
“I can imagine,” Laura nodded, checking on Josh quickly. “I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way again Tyler.”  
“It’s fine.” He lied, tears filling his eyes already.

“Josh’s missed you a lot, every single day he’s been signing for you and banging on the window towards your house, and he even used his iPad to ask where you were a few times.”  
“I’m sorry I left him.”  
“Don’t apologise Tyler, it was my decision to go back to LA, you’ve got zero responsibility on your shoulders, you hear me?” Mom insisted but the words meant nothing to him as he stared at the contusions and wounds covering Josh’s skin.

“Has he been self injuring a lot?” Tyler eventually asked, the first tear racing from his lashes to his jaw in half a second.  
“More than usual, yeah, but that’s not because of you Tyler. This happens every school break, especially summer, he just can’t cope with all the changes around him. We do our best to keep his routine the same, but I also have to consider my other kids and I can’t expect them to be out of the house all day every day. Jordan and Ashley are at summer camp right now, but even just having Abbie around at times she’s not usually here has been really distressing for him.”  
“Yeh,” Tyler knew that, by not being there, he was also messing up Josh’s routine. He was also to blame for his array of bruises and scrapes.

“With that being said, he’s actually really impressed me this summer. He’s been going to lots of his therapy sessions with next to no complaints, and he’s actually engaging with them. Then at home his listening has been really good, really really good, and he’s learning more and more about the options he has for sensory stimulation aside from self-harming, so he’s started asking to use his tent far more often and biting his pillows and soft toys rather than himself. I know there’s still a lot of room for improvement, anyone can see that, but he’s made me really proud.”

Whilst she’d been talking, Josh had had enough of his peanut ball exercise and had stopped rolling, instead finding his way over to the group on the other side of the room, hands swinging around restlessly. He went up to his mother and planted his head straight into her collar with considerable force, and she smiled and wrapped her arms around him lovingly, swaying ever so slightly as he stayed buried.

“MmmMMm,”  
“Mmmmom, that’s right Josh, Mmmmom.” She encouraged his sounds.

“That’s new!” Kelly whispered excitedly and Laura grinned, nodding proudly but still focussing on the 18 year old in her embrace.  
“You like talking to Momma, don’t you Josh? You’re very chatty these days, hey? Mmmmm, mmmmomma,”

Tyler felt awkward. Part of him wanted to go back to their relationship before summer and run up to his room so they could play with his soft carpet and rummage through his box of toys and laugh and relax in the safety of each other’s company, but he was also terrified. Josh was clearly unstable, as was he, and he didn’t know whether he was feeling strong enough to manage the responsibility of caring for his friend. Furthermore he knew the moment he left the room, the moms would inevitably start talking about him and his weight, and the thought of that made him feel sick.

“Josh, do you want to show Tyler what we were just playing with? The foil and tissue paper?” She asked him, and Tyler’s stomach dropped. Josh stood up and hummed a little as he thought about the proposal, but instead of answering he walked over to the sink and pulled the tap on, letting the cold water run over his hands and up his forearms. He seemed more interested in the water than Tyler, but he didn’t mind it that way. 

“We’re trying to do at least 3 sensory treats every day, aren’t we honey? So today’s been a good day because we’ve played with bubbles, and paints, and water, and now foil.”  
“Is the water your favourite Josh?” Kelly asked and was predictably ignored by the teenager messing around with the stream of the tap.   
“He likes them all, don’t you babe?”

“Why don’t you go and play with him sweetie? Mess around with the water too?” Tyler’s mom suggested, rubbing his back warmly.  
“Will, will he get upset again? Do I upset him?” He turned to Laura anxiously.  
“He’s relaxed now, he’s in your company and he’s calm, so I don’t think he’ll get worked up again – but if he does? I’m right here, all his self soothe stuff is right here, we can help him feel settled again. You don’t need to worry, okay?”  
“Right,” Tyler gulped, still worrying. 

“Josh, can Tyler play with you?” Laura called out to her autistic son, before Tyler had even confirmed he was up for it. He didn’t know whether he was up for it. He didn’t think he was up for it.  
“Go on, we’ll stay close.” His mom kissed him on the shoulder lovingly, then encouraged him to take a step towards the sink.

Once he’d taken one step, automatically he took another, and after 4 or 5 he was by Josh’s side, getting splashed as he flicked the water around gleefully.

Laura and Kelly took a few steps of their own, sitting down at the kitchen table with all the foil and tissue paper, most likely to discuss their neurodivergent sons in hushed whispers that Tyler tried to tune out of. He didn’t want to hear how far he’d fallen, he was acutely aware already.

“Hi,” Tyler mumbled, Josh continuing to move his hands under the stream of cold water, a puddle on the floor growing slowly and the work top flooded. His friend didn’t acknowledge him, which Tyler understood, but in many ways he was just grateful that he hadn’t started having a meltdown. He wasn’t completed hated.

“Sorry I went away.” He knew that didn’t make up for the weeks of turmoil, and even looking at the bruising and scrapes on Josh’s exposed arms made him want to cry, but nevertheless he continued talking to him as he relished in the sensory experience of the water. “I went back to my old neighbourhood, in LA, from before I was your friend. My parents and siblings wanted to see their old friends, and, and I guess they thought I wasn’t safe to stay here by myself for summer.”

“I missed you Josh. I got really sad without you around to cheer me up.”

It was always difficult to tell whether Josh was truly listening. Sometimes Tyler craved some reassuring eye contact, but he knew that eye contact was not Josh’s specialty – he felt connection in other ways instead. Josh preferred touch for example, he liked getting his hands on things, liked things getting on his hands, and Tyler understood why the tap was far more engaging than his crappy excuses.

“I thought about you everyda-“ Tyler was cut off by a wet slimy hand slamming into his face. Of course his initial reaction was to flinch away, but he quickly realised he was not getting slapped, and instead Josh was exploring his face with his dripping wet fingertips. His way of forming a connection.

“You’re getting me soaked,” he couldn’t help smiling as Josh continued his ritual of examining every little crevice and wrinkle with his shrivelled fingers, pressing softly into Tyler’s uneven eyebrows at that exact moment, with a few drops of water running from his hands into Tyler’s cheeks before trickling down his jaw and neck, absorbed by his oversized hoodie, which was getting damper and damper as Josh took his time.

“Iz wiwwy goo to zee you,” the bulimic couldn’t form his words properly when Josh progressed to playing with his mouth, a happy grin appearing on his face when the soft plump skin of Tyler’s lips moved. “Iz da funny Yosh?”

The small giggle suggested yes.

**Author's Note:**

> As with all my autism fics, this may not be an accurate portrayal! If you have any notes for me then I will happily update the work as to give the most accurate representation of autism as possible, and no offence is meant by these errors.
> 
> For my frequent readers:  
> Things are tough right now, and I've been moved to a new unit in hopes of better management, but so far I'm just feeling unsettled and lonely. I've been doing my best to write and I have 5 chapters of the Caught Caged and Collared fic written, but I've decided to try and finish the whole story before posting, so hopefully in a few weeks there will be some more content from me. For now, I hope this is enough. Second part coming over the weekend most likely.
> 
> Lots of Love,  
> Maisie


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